‘Dear Vivianne, …With me in hand, you wandered the world— the florals of an Irish spring, roses in a Venetian summer, lakeside autumns painted in Kyoto’s fiery maples, and the pristine snows of Hokkaido’s winter. Each place came alive through your lens, woven into the fabrics you dressed me in. Like a spirit of the seasons, you waved your fairy’s wand, scattering stardust— it settled on our skin, seeped into our very being. The beauty of the four seasons found its home in your ever...
‘Dear Vivianne, …With me in hand, you wandered the world— the florals of an Irish spring, roses in a Venetian summer, lakeside autumns painted in Kyoto’s fiery maples, and the pristine snows of Hokkaido’s winter. Each place came alive through your lens, woven into the fabrics you dressed me in. Like a spirit of the seasons, you waved your fairy’s wand, scattering stardust— it settled on our skin, seeped into our very being. The beauty of the four seasons found its home in your ever...